


that's just how it goes

by itisjosh



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Best Friends, Caretaking, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Minor Injuries, Past Violence, Reading Aloud, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Trust Issues, it gets a LOT softer i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-22 19:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30043596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: Techno reaches out for the first aid kid, opening it again, pulling out the rubbing alcohol and gauze."Now what do you think you're doing, Technoblade?"(or, techno thinks that because he's supposed to be strong he has to take care of himself. wilbur is adamantly against this)
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 10
Kudos: 248





	that's just how it goes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arochill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arochill/gifts).



> HELLO ARO!!!!! i realised that i've never gifted you a fic before, and it only felt fair to gift you a fic that had a prompt you suggested to me, after all. don't think that just because i plan on gifting a LOT to red that that doesn't mean you're free from this either :) you've been one of my biggest supports and ily a lot aro <33

Techno moves down his stairs, careful to overstep the one that creaks, silently moving in the dim light of the early morning. He winces when his arm sends a pang of pain throughout his entire body, reaching over to clutch at his right with his left, wishing that he didn't decide to leave it unbandaged for so long. Techno sighs, moving over to the cabinet to grab the first aid kid that Phil keeps in there, popping it open for a second to make sure that everything is still in there from the last time that he did this. Needles to sew up any wounds? Check. Gauze and bandages? Check. Rubbing alcohol? Check. Techno breathes out, moving over to the table in their kitchen, setting the first aid kit down, resting his arm onto the wooden table in front of him. He rolls up his sleeves, wincing back at the wound that goes up and down his forearm, red and angry. Dried blood layers over the cut in his arm, almost to the point where Techno can't actually see the cut throughout all the blood. He reaches out for the first aid kid, opening it again, pulling out the rubbing alcohol and gauze. He's gotten this whole first aid kit memorized, he knows exactly where everything goes. 

"Now what do you think you're doing, Technoblade?" Techno curses under his breath, quickly rolling up his sleeve, slamming the first aid kit shut after he shoves the gauze back into it. He props the first aid kit up, shoving the rubbing alcohol behind it. Wilbur wanders out of his room, his eyes bright. He's very obviously been awake for a few hours now, Techno thinks to himself, a little more bitterly than he thinks he shoulder. Wilbur offers him a sort of half smile, raising an eyebrow up to his hairline. "Techno," Wilbur crosses his arms, leaning back on his feet as he motions forwards, nodding ahead at the first aid kit, at Techno himself. "What are you doing?" He asks, tilting his head to the side, ever so slightly. "Are you.." Wilbur's smile drops off of his face, replaced with a tight, worried frown. "Techno. Your arm. What happened to your arm?"

Techno follows Wilbur's gaze, glancing down at his arm, heaving a sigh when he realises that his sleeve didn't quite manage to cover up all of the cut. "Nothin'," Techno answers, pushing himself off of the chair, wondering if he should go back to his room or leave the house entirely to avoid this very specific problem. To avoid this very specific conversation he's about to have with one of the people he _really_ does not want to talk to right now. "Wilbur, nothin' happened. Don't look at me like that," Techno offers a half smile, taking a step back, glancing over to the staircase. Wilbur picks up on that, because of fucking _course_ he does, and immediately grabs his other arm. "Wilbur. I'm bein' serious. Nothin' happened to me, I'm _fine_. Let go of me, Wilbur."

"No," Wilbur answers, the word sounding far, far too simple. "Sit down and roll up your sleeve," Wilbur tells him, tightening his grip on Techno's other arm. "I'm not going to leave you alone until you do that, Techno," Techno wonders if he could punch Wilbur in the face with his injured arm, feeling nothing but bitter nervousness and anger swirling in his chest for a few seconds. It's replaced with defeat a second later, and Techno slouches his shoulders, sitting back down on the chair. "Thank you," Wilbur smiles at him, grabbing a chair from the other side of the table, sitting down. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" 

"I was just.." Techno sighs, waving his hand in annoyance, feeling something sort of like shame settle in his chest. "It's not a big deal. I just messed up and I didn't need you to all deal with it. It's not a big deal, Wilbur. I just want to bandage up my arm and go. I don't need you to baby me, I'm not a _child_ , Wilbur." 

"Obviously," Wilbur opens the first aid kit, gently setting out the gauze, reaching for the rubbing alcohol, popping off the cap. "You're not a child, Techno. I'm not stupid, I know that you're an adult," he looks up at him, offering a smile. Techno looks away, letting his arm rest on the table again, rolling up his sleeve for Wilbur to see. He doesn't _want_ to, but it's easier to just fucking agree with Wilbur than to try and get him to fuck off. Techno knows this, and he hates it more than he thinks he could ever say. "Did you accidentally cut yourself with your sword?" Wilbur asks. "This is way too deep for you to have just slapped some gauze on it." 

"I _know_ ," Techno snaps, narrowing his eyes over at he man sat at his side. "I was going to sew it back up, Wilbur. I know how to take care of myself, I've done it a thousand times before. I'm not stupid, I'm not a baby, I'm not someone you have to take care of because I'm too weak to do it myself. I'm not fuckin' _stupid_ , Wilbur. I can take care of myself without havin' you treat me like a goddamn kid. I don't need your help. I don't _want_ your help." 

Wilbur nods at him, seemingly taking Techno's words in stride. "I know how it feels," Wilbur murmurs, his voice soft, far too soft for Techno's liking. "To feel like you have to take care of yourself, to not let anyone see you being weak," he sighs. "But you're not weak for getting hurt, Techno. Let me guess," Wilbur smiles, "you didn't tell any of us because _you're_ supposed to be the _strong_ one. _You're_ not supposed to get _hurt_. _You're_ the one who should be taking care of _us_ , and it would be wrong if the roles were reversed. Is that it?" Techno looks away, wishing that Wilbur would just stop talking. He wants Wilbur to stop talking, not because he's wrong, but because he's _right_ , and Techno wishes that he wasn't. "There's a reason we're all here."

"That doesn't make it any easier. You're actin' like I should just..forget every single thing that happened to me in my past 'nd just move on, all 'cause you told me it's _okay_. That's not at all how it works, Wilbur. This doesn't work like that, it's never gonna work like that. I can't just..I'm not goin' to let you take care of me, because I can take care of myself perfectly fine. I don't want you to." 

"That doesn't mean I'm going to stop," Wilbur tells him, pointedly. He pauses for a second, rolling up his own sleeves. Techno blinks at the multitude of jagged scars, all of which have healed over crookedly. They've all scarred horribly. "I tried to take care of myself back before I found this place," Wilbur doesn't bother to roll his sleeves back down, leaving Techno sat there in silence. Techno looks away, breathing out. "You would have wanted me to come to you, wouldn't you? You'd have wanted me to take care of myself properly by burdening you with this, right?"

"It wouldn't have been _burdenin'_ me, Wilbur." 

"How is this any different then, Technoblade?" Wilbur asks, tilting his head to the side, raising his eyebrows up to his hairline. 

Techno blinks. 

He closes his eyes, breathes out. 

"I really do fuckin' hate it when you're right, did you know that?" Wilbur grins at him, gently patting his arm. 

"I know," he beams, pouring out some rubbing alcohol onto a cloth. "I guess you have to hate me all the time, considering how I'm right literally all the time. Whenever I speak, I'm right. I'm right constantly. I just can't be wrong, it's a curse, really. Anyways," Wilbur smiles at him, a little softer this time. "You're not going to take care of yourself alone anymore, okay, Techno? I'm not going to let you do that. Even if you try and get rid of me, you're not going to be able to. I'm like a fucking cockroach, Technoblade. I will _always_ come back." Techno laughs, ducking his head at the stupid joke. 

"Okay, Wilbur. Whatever you say. I don't like this, though. It doesn't.." he sighs, glancing up at the ceiling. "Makes me feel bad, you know?" Techno offers, tilting his head to the side. "I know that you're right, and I hate that, but it's not like I can just..stop. You know?" 

"I do, I do know," Wilbur confirms. "So long as you try, though, that's really the only important part," Wilbur beams at him, bright and full of light and love. Techno can't help but smile back, ducking his head as he lets Wilbur clean up his arm. He winces, biting down on his lip as he feels the rubbing alcohol on his skin, wishing that it didn't hurt as much as it does. "I'm proud that you didn't try and fight me on this, Techno. I would have tied you down to this table if you tried." Techno laughs, trying his best to keep his voice muffled a little, to keep his laughter low. He doesn't want to accidentally wake up Phil or Tommy. 

"I'm sure you would have Wilbur," Techno grins at him, watching as the blood is wiped away from his arm. "I accidentally cut myself when I was trainin'," he sighs. "I just messed up, I fumbled my sword and I tried to catch it, but I just ended up cuttin' open my arm. I didn't want to..you know, be a burden, I guess, so I just kept it hidden. Just like I've been doin' for a while now. I don't know if I'll let you do this again," he admits. "I don't think I have much of a choice. It's just..it's really difficult. But I promise that I'll try. I promise." 

Wilbur smiles at him, gently squeezing his hand. "I know you will. Proud of you, Technoblade. You know that all of us are, right? Phil and Tommy, they're proud of you, too. We all are. I think we'd all rather die than have to have you deal with this on your own." 

"I'd rather you guys stay alive," Techno snorts, shifting a little, trying his best to ignore the pain that blossoms in his arm every single time Wilbur moves it. "Is it meant to hurt this much, or.." he sighs. "When I do it, it never hurts this badly."

"Probably because you get to it sooner," Wilbur murmurs. "It's infected. I'm going to have to drain the pus out of this," he glances up at Techno, and Techno can't help but look away, feeling more and more ashamed with every passing second. "Don't look at me like that, dumbass. I don't mind. You just didn't get it taken care of fast enough, and now I'm going to. It's a big deal, but we can talk about that later. Maybe in the morning. For now," Wilbur smiles at him, "how about you read a book while I stitch you up?"

"I hate readin'," Techno grumbles. "It's why I make you do it for me." 

Wilbur laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides. "Unfortunately for you, Technoblade, I can't stitch and read at the same time without severely fucking up and accidentally cutting off your entire goddamn arm. So I think you're going to have to make do, okay?" Techno grins back at him, outstretching his other arm, grabbing a book from the nearby counter. He sighs when he reads the title on the spine of the book. _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Nether_. He's heard this a thousand times before. "You hate that book."

"I know I do," Techno sighs, defeated. "But it's the only one I can actually reach. Wait," Techno looks up at his best friend, his sort of brother. "Don't you have this memorised?" Wilbur blinks at him, a look of confusion passing over his face for a second before realisation shines in his eyes. "You do, don't you?" 

"No," Wilbur answers. "I do not."

Techno grins at him, their past argument entirely fading at the look on Wilbur's face. He feels the needle in his arm, but it's not nearly as prominent as it had been only a few seconds before. "You _do_. Come on, Wilbur. Please? For me?"

"Guilt tripping is a sin, Technoblade."

"I've already been to Hell," Techno laughs, setting the book down on the table, tapping the front cover of it. "It's where you guys saved me from." Wilbur sighs, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

"You make me so unfathomably angry, Technoblade. _Fine!_ " Wilbur huffs, dramatic as ever. "Fine. I'll read the goddamn book. You're so.." Wilbur trails off, breathing out through his nose. Techno opens the book, grinning right back over at his best friend. " _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Nether_ , by Philza Minecraft," Wilbur starts. "The first thing that you have to do when entering the Nether is to not fucking die. The key to not fucking dying, as Philza puts it, is to simply _not fucking die_ ," Wilbur heaves a sigh. "When you enter the Nether, you'll either get lucky, or you won't. Portals have a high risk of being created over lava lakes with little to no land around them, and the best thing to do in that situation is to go back through the portal you came from and never step foot in it again. If you don't get a good portal location in the Nether, you want to turn back around and go home and find a new place to build your portal. It's unimportant if you like your overworld's portal location - the only thing that matters is the Nether's portal location. Once you actually get a decent portal spot, preferably on land rather than above it, you'll want to do the following - _not fucking die_." 

Techno grins as he reads along with Wilbur's voice, the stitching and wrapping of his arm not even phasing him. He makes snide remarks at Wilbur's narration voice, making fun of his _Philza Voice_ , as he calls it. Wilbur teases him back, adding in little footnotes that were definitely not there before. 

As much as Techno still wishes that he could keep up his untouchable, uninjurable facade, he knows that this was definitely the best outcome for him to ever recieve. Techno thinks that he's going to be eternally grateful for the man at his side, the man who's currently listing off curses left and right because he just pricked his finger. Techno can't help but smile, feeling his chest tighten with something sort of like contentedness. 

And at least now, Techno thinks to himself, he doesn't have to do any of this alone.

Maybe he never did.


End file.
